


i want to go home / but i am home

by lipsticksunrise



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsticksunrise/pseuds/lipsticksunrise
Summary: Dirk struggles with knowing that John's here, sometimes. John finds new ways to show him.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	i want to go home / but i am home

**Author's Note:**

> basically i said "vent fic but make it horny" and this is what happened! enjoy! 
> 
> cw in the end notes because these boys don't know how to communicate; title from "riches and wonders" by the mountain goats

“Dirk, what the fuck?”

Dirk looks over at John’s betrayed face and shrugs, faux-casual. “That’s what happens when you steal my sword, dude, I warned you.”

“How many times do I have to - it wasn’t me!” John insists. “The only time I ever opened that chest was to give you some extra armor that I’d made because I’m _nice._ ”

Dirk raises an eyebrow and definitely doesn’t use his left hand to move his avatar into the perfect spot to kill John again as soon as he respawns. He knows that Dave took the sword last time he played with them, he’s not stupid, but he’s been … restless, the past couple of days. Like his skin isn’t wrapping around his bones quite right in the way that only a slightly pissed John can fix, preferably with ropes, a flogger, and, if Dirk’s lucky, sex. And of course, because Dirk is a shit that’s never once directly asked for what he wants, he knows that the best way for John to get inside of his head and figure out exactly what he needs is for John to be mildly pissed. “Even though you know I don’t need armor? I’ve died literally twice the entire time that we’ve had this world, John, and it was fall damage from Rose pushing me both times.” 

“It was still a nice gesture,” John says. He puts his controller down before hitting respawn and turns to face Dirk. Fuck yeah. “Look, I know you’re being a shit on purpose. What do you want?” 

“What do you mean?” Dirk asks, because again - he’s a shit that’s never once directly asked for what he wants. And, in his defense, he doesn’t actually know what it is that he wants today. He wants, well, John, for one, in the kind of close and embarrassing ways that should never be voiced or even allowed to become coherent thoughts. He wants to be in the moment just after a scene, where he’s on the bed reeling from whatever John’s chosen to give him, out of his mind and his skin because he’s safe in the knowledge that John will be there to put him back.

He wants a lot of cheesy bullshit, is the point, but it’s all too vague and embarrassing for him to ask for directly. So he pushes. “I just want my fuckin’ diamond sword back.” 

“I told you-” John starts, then, “nevermind. Just tell me what you actually want, okay? You’re really not half as subtle as you think.”

Dirk scowls at that, just a bit, but he closes his eyes and lets his expression soften when John reaches up and cups Dirk’s face in his hands. It’s gentle, which Dirk normally rejects when he’s in a mood like this, but today he finds himself wanting to sink into the contact. John’s _here_ , holding him, and that really shouldn’t be making his heartbeat increase this much. 

“Dirk,” John says, more insistent this time. He pushes Dirk’s shades up to the top of his head, but Dirk keeps his eyes closed. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Dirk lets his breath out in a long exhale. “Yeah.”

“Then what’s going on?” 

“I don’t-” Dirk cuts himself off. “I’m not sure it takes, like, rocket science to figure what’s going on here.” 

John snorts a little. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Dirk opens his eyes and surprises himself when he meets John’s small smile with one of his own. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“I think we’re on the same page here,” John continues, “but you seem… different, today? So I guess, like, do you want something different?”

Sometimes, John’s willful obliviousness drives Dirk insane. Sometimes, it’s a gift. Of course, right when Dirk would love it the most, it’s absolutely nowhere to be found. “I want…” Dirk starts, then sighs. “I don’t know. I want - I want to know that you’re here? Which is stupid, because it’s not like you’ve done anything that makes it feel like you haven’t been or like you aren’t, but just, like - I need to know that you’re here, and that I’m here, and-” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” John interrupts, just as Dirk starts to get a little closer to what could be defined as hysterical. “Okay, that’s okay. I can work with that.” 

He tries to meet Dirk’s eyes, but Dirk stubbornly looks at the window over his shoulder. Look. This sort of thing isn’t new to them, obviously, and they’ve been doing it for long enough that Dirk _knows_ that John likes it too, that John may act allergic to sincerity but he can express it in his own weird way. That doesn’t stop Dirk from feeling like a fucking nuisance, though, especially since he basically accused John of not making Dirk feel like he’s there for him.

“You don’t have to,” Dirk says. He pulls away from John’s grip, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, obviously, but, like, we can just do what we normally do. That’d be cool. Or we can do nothing, like, that’s equally cool.”

John lets him go, but his eyes don’t leave Dirk’s. “I love you, idiot,” he says, after a long moment. “And hey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m character developed! I’m not just going to run for the hills because you dared to express an emotion outside of when I’ve, like, spanked you or whatever.” 

Dirk lets himself laugh at that, and he feels the tight anxiety that was building up in his chest dissolve a little. See, it’s okay, he’s okay, it’s John. It’s okay.

There’s a pause. Minecraft music filters out into the room for a moment before John reaches for a remote and shuts the Xbox off. “So,” he says, “I have an idea. I’m kind of afraid it’s gonna be counterintuitive, but I don’t think it will be.”

“Reassuring,” Dirk says dryly, but he doesn’t press. He trusts John, even if he’ll never directly say as much. 

John knows it too, even if Dirk will never directly say it, so he continues. “Obviously tell me if you don’t like it, but what if I-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me,” Dirk interrupts. “Just - do it, and I’ll safeword if I need to.” 

John is quiet for a moment. When Dirk dares to glance away from the ceiling and at his boyfriend, John’s staring at him. Intense isn’t a word most people would ascribe to John Egbert, but it’s really the only way to describe the way he looks when he gets like this. It’s hot and feels like an X-ray of Dirk’s soul all at once, which, hey, don’t have to be mutually exclusive things. In a way. 

Finally, John says, “Okay. Wait here?”

He inflects it like a question, but Dirk knows it isn’t. He nods and relaxes back into the couch, and John presses a kiss to his cheek before getting up and disappearing somewhere down the hall. Dirk inhales, holds his breath until he can’t stand it anymore, and exhales. John’s footsteps patter around the bedroom, then start to come back towards the living room. Dirk lifts his shades off of the top of his head and carefully places them on the coffee table.

John is back before his imagination can really start picturing what’s going to happen, but Dirk is still surprised to see that John is just holding a length of rope and a blindfold. But again - Dirk trusts him, so he bites back his questions.

“Hey,” John says. “Still good?”

Dirk nods. He suddenly doesn’t trust his voice, not when his heart is starting to pick up its pace. 

“Cool. Alright, um, c’mere.”

Dirk gets up from the couch, frowning to himself because it’s not as smooth of a motion as he’d prefer, and walks to stand in front of John, who’s directly underneath the innocuous hook they put into the ceiling a little while ago. Huh. Okay.

John smiles at him. “Good,” he says, and Dirk flushes even though he hasn’t done anything but take three steps across a room. “Lift your arms up for me?”

Dirk swallows and does. John puts the rope and blindfold down on the windowsill for a moment so he can reach out and place his hands on Dirk’s waist. “Shh,” he says when the contact makes Dirk jolt. “Sorry, I know my hands are cold.” 

Technically, Dirk knows that John hasn’t told him not to speak or anything like that, but he stays quiet. It just feels… right, in the mid-afternoon light, and it already makes something in his chest lock into place. 

John is quiet for a moment as well, like he’s waiting to see if Dirk is really staying quiet, then repeats, “Good,” as he pushes Dirk’s shirt up and off. He tosses it onto the couch and runs his hands back down Dirk’s now-bare sides, smiling when Dirk shudders. “Keep your arms up, okay?”

Dirk nods. His mouth is dry. John’s hands _are_ cold, but Dirk doesn’t really mind as long as they’re touching him. It means that John’s here, with him.

His arms waver slightly, but that stops when John reaches up and wraps his hand around both of Dirk’s wrists. His tongue pokes out between his lips as he reaches up, grabs the rope, and winds it around Dirk’s wrists and the hook in the ceiling, tying them together in a knot Dirk doesn’t need to test to know he won’t be able to undo. 

Dirk stays quiet as John’s hands move down to the button of his skinny jeans. He’s trying not to think too hard about what he thinks John is planning, but it’s kind of impossible to think about anything else. Obviously he’s been in this situation before, they put the hook in for a reason, but today is… different. 

“What are you thinking about?” John asks. “You can talk.”

“I… wondering what your plan is,” Dirk says. His voice is rough, almost the way it gets when he’s about to cry, and he really wishes he had a better excuse for why that is then his hands tied above his head. He doesn’t know why everything feels so amplified today, why the way John’s knuckles brush against his thighs as he gently tugs Dirk’s jeans and boxers down feels like an electric shock. Just… one of those days, although, when is it not, with him?

“Hm,” John says. “And you still don’t want to know?”

“Not particularly,” Dirk says. He closes his eyes as John crouches down to pull his jeans the rest of the way off, but he obligingly lifts his feet one at a time. Nudity’s never been something he’s particularly uncomfortable with, but the vulnerability, especially with his arms above his head like this, has his breathing getting a little funny. 

“That’s cool,” John says, because of course he does, and then his hands are suddenly on Dirk’s face again, thumbs brushing over his eyebrows. “Hey, look at me.”

Dirk opens his eyes. John is right in front of him, smiling in a way that both comforts Dirk and sets him on edge. He’s not hard, especially not with the cool breeze from the AC vent above him, but he could probably get there if John just kept looking at him like that. 

“The world’s not going to end if you stop thinking so much for a minute, you know.”

“I know,” Dirk says, and he does, he does, but… 

“I know,” John echoes. His smile softens for a moment, then he drops his hands and reaches for the blindfold still on the windowsill. He doesn’t need to say anything for Dirk to fall silent again, and the room is quiet as John ties the blindfold around Dirk’s eyes. It obscures his vision completely, so much so that he can’t quite tell when his eyes are open and when they’re closed. It’s perfect, and it makes something tighten, low and anxious, in his gut. 

John’s hands rest at the back of Dirk’s head for just a moment before disappearing, and Dirk’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t feel John at all, can’t see him, and he shifts slightly.

“I’m right here,” John says, like he knows what Dirk is thinking. “Okay?”

Dirk nods and then forces himself to take a deep breath as he hears John walking away. Okay. He’s fine. He can hear John, he’s still in the room. He’s just sitting on the couch, the familiar springs creaking under his weight, and from the sound of it, turning the Xbox back on.

Dirk allows himself a silent, _What the fuck?_ He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t trust his voice or his brain to form anything resembling a coherent sentence, but… what the fuck.

He settles for shifting his weight from foot to foot a couple of times. He and John have done weird things before, sure, but this feels weirder than that. But - it’s John, and Dirk trusts him. He doesn’t know the whole plan. 

The couch creaks again before the sound is covered by Minecraft’s title screen music. Dirk closes his eyes, useless with the blindfold but comforting nonetheless, and forces himself to take deep breaths. Right. It’s not like this is a bad situation or anything, and it’s not even different from so many scenes that he and John have done before. And in a way, Dirk is privately grateful that John decided that today, at least not so far, was a pain day. 

Not that those aren’t great most of the time, it’s just that there are times when it’s not what Dirk needs. It’s comforting, in a warm, embarrassing way, that John knew that, somehow, before Dirk did. 

_Or maybe he just wanted a way to get you out of his way for a bit_ , an asshole voice in the back of Dirk’s mind whispers. 

Dirk shifts his weight again, wishes they’d thought to put the ceiling hook a little further from the AC vent. He knows, logically, that that’s probably not the case. But then again, maybe it is.

It’s not like it would be a surprise. Dirk knows that he’s a lot. He’s known it for years, and no number of forced conversations with Rose or any of the “professionals” she’s recommended are going to change his mind. He’s a lot, and he’s okay with that most of the time. John is also okay with it most of the time because he, in his own way, is also a lot. They compliment each other; it works.

But Dirk still can’t shake the feeling, especially at times like this, that he’s more. Or that he’s too much. That maybe today was the last straw for John, that maybe all he really wanted to do today was play Minecraft and not deal with the way that Dirk’s stupid brain refuses to let him feel secure in any given situation for longer than a week. 

He knows his breathing is picking up, but he can’t quite bring himself to focus on it enough to bring it back under control. Is John even still here? Would Dirk even have been able to hear him leave over the music? But no, that’s stupid, that doesn’t make sense, Dirk can hear him fucking placing blocks. Unless that’s just a recording? Maybe John just put on some fucking Youtube Minecraft ASMR and went down the hall to chill and take a break from his stupid boyfriend and -

“Dirk. I can hear you thinking, dude,” John says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from a few feet away, but it’s him and he’s there. He’s here. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m right here. Just breathe for me.”

Dirk tries, he really does, but he’s caught between his panic and the sudden relief of John’s voice. The breaths he gasps in are shaky, shallow, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. Fuck. It’s been two minutes, barely, and he’s already losing his shit and -

“Dirk,” John says again. His voice is closer this time, and Dirk’s hands twitch in their restraints like he has any hope of being able to reach out and touch John. “Hey, just breathe, okay? Do you need help? You can talk if you need to.”

Dirk just nods, trying to keep himself from swaying forward in the hopes of touching John and likely failing. There’s suddenly a hand on his side, cold but firm against his bare skin, and he tries to lean into it.

“Okay,” John says, “you’re okay.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then Dirk feels the air rushing in and out of his lungs slow. It’s a sensation he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, no matter how many times John has to bring him down like this, but the strangeness of it is good to focus on. “There you go.”

John’s other hand reaches out to rest on Dirk’s chest, on the thin layer of skin protecting his heart, until Dirk’s breathing is back to normal. “Okay?” he says. 

Dirk drops his head down to his chest, but he can’t quite reach John’s hand. He keeps focusing on his breathing. John’s voice is low as he keeps talking. Like Dirk’s a skittish animal. “If this isn’t working, just say so. I’m not trying to - well, I’m not trying to _actually_ hurt you.”

Dirk pushes himself up onto his tiptoes. He’s not sure if he’s grateful for the way it relieves some of the stress on his arms and shoulders or if he misses the ache, but he knows he’s glad for the way it grants him enough leeway to lean forward and knock his head into John’s - chest, it feels like. 

“Hey,” John says, sounding amused. His hand disappears from Dirk’s chest and ruffles his hair. “You’re like a cat. And no, don’t you dare try and tell me I’m a furry.”

Dirk snorts. 

“Yeah, laugh it up,” John says, quieter, then, “I’m going to go sit down again, okay? Will you stay still for me?”

Dirk lifts his head from John’s chest and nods. John’s hand slides from his hair to cup his chin, and Dirk can hear his smile. “Good,” he says. “Alright, just try and relax, okay? I’ll be back.”

And then his touch is gone, his footsteps soft on the carpet as he walks away, and Dirk forces himself to keep breathing. It’s okay. Of course it is. John didn’t go anywhere, he’s not going anywhere. 

Dirk drops back down onto his heels, stretching his arms up to meet the slight pull of the rope. His shoulders are going to be sore tomorrow. That’s good. Sore is good, like the dull ache of productive day or the sharp reminder of the way John loves him. Which would be to say unconditionally, if he was inclined to be more sentimental or direct than he is. 

The Minecraft sounds resume. Dirk resists the urge to start taking tiny steps forward and back - John told him to stay still. The AC switches off, which is a small relief, even though the absence of the ambient noise only amplifies every other sound in the room: the couch creaking under John as he moves. Dirk’s breathing. The ceiling fan whirring. The soft clicking of John’s controller. John huffing under his breath after the sound of a fall. 

Dirk smiles to himself at that, tries to roll his shoulders with little success. This is… better, he thinks, now. He’s just vulnerable enough to be aware of it, but he knows he’s safe. John is nearby, here, close, and without the freedom to move or see, he’s not only all Dirk has to focus on, but Dirk has to work to focus on him. 

Dirk curls his toes into the carpet. It’s soft. John picked it out after they first moved in, after spending a week comparing tiny, fluffy squares against one another. Dirk thinks it might be like the carpet from his old house, but he’s never asked. 

John is a lot smarter than most people give him credit for. For coming up with this on the spot, it’s more perfect than Dirk would like it to be. Especially if he gets off by the end of it, but even if he doesn’t, he think he’ll be content. 

John falls and dies again. For someone that spent most of his childhood playing video games, he sucks at them. It’s endearing. Dirk tilts his head upwards, just a bit, and wonders if John is looking at him. He drops his head back down to where it was just in case he is. 

Despite the strain in his shoulders that’s starting to turn into an actual ache and the fact that he’s, you know, vertical and naked, Dirk starts to get sleepy. He can’t see through the blindfold, but he has a feeling that it’s probably around sunset. John has settled down and stopped creaking the couch every two seconds; the room is quiet. It’s peaceful and John is there, so Dirk figures he’s justified when he lets his eyes fall shut and his head fall forward, just a bit. 

He’s not sure if he actually falls asleep or not. All he knows is the way his entire body jerks completely awake again some unknown amount of time later, his stomach recovering from the feeling of a phantom fall. It takes him a moment to get his bearings back - his feet steady on the floor, his posture straightened, the ache in his shoulders starting to reach a new, painful level, the slightly weightless feeling of his hands now that the blood has had so much time to rush out of them - and a moment longer to recognize the harsh panting he hears as his own breathing. Okay. Yep, calming that shit right down, especially because he has no way of hearing what John’s doing over it. 

Dirk counts seconds of inhale, hold, exhale, and slowly starts to calm down. It’s hard, though, now that his brain is back online. He hates that he has no idea what time it is. Did he drift off for five minutes? Thirty? An hour or more? What did he miss? Maybe someone came over, maybe John told him to do something and he didn’t hear, maybe John left - Dirk cuts his thoughts off. No. No, he’s okay. John has it under control, and he wouldn’t have gone anywhere. 

Still, though, Dirk can’t shake his discomfort. He crosses his legs slightly like that’ll do anything to make him feel less vulnerable and opens his eyes under the blindfold like that’ll do anything to help him piece together the situation. And he listens.

The first thing that he notices is the absence of music or controller clicks. Okay, so John’s not gaming anymore. Okay, that would be fine, maybe, but the sound of the couch groaning under shifting weight is gone as well. John… didn’t leave, right?

Dirk swallows hard. No, John didn’t leave. He’s just not listening well enough, missing out on some vital sound that will let him know that John’s actually standing next to him, watching carefully and waiting to intervene if he has to. But the only sound in the room is the soft, airy hum of the AC. Dirk has no idea when it came back on. 

Okay, that doesn’t matter right now. He just has to focus. Dirk tries closing his eyes this time, focusing solely on what he can hear. Maybe John fell asleep, that’s all - but no, no, that doesn’t make sense, because John snores like a fucking freight train, and Dirk would be able to hear it even if he was down the hall.

Unless he closed the door, maybe, and Dirk opens his eyes again like he’ll magically be able to take in his surroundings. Is the living room door even open? He’s pretty sure that it was when this started, but he has no real idea, which means that John _could_ be in the kitchen or the bedroom or anywhere, really, and Dirk wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

Dirk shifts again. He’s trying not to think about ways to get himself out if he has to, if John forgot him and went to the store or if John decided he was too much to deal with and left him, mostly because the more he does, the more he’s faced with the fact that he doesn’t have a lot of options. If he shook his head back and forth enough, he might be able to loosen the blindfold, or maybe he could push his arms against his head and slide it off? As for his hands, maybe if he stepped back and up onto the windowsill, he’d have enough slack to slide the loop of the rope off of the hook and -

No. No, he’s fine. John wouldn’t just abandon him like this, hell, maybe he’s just in the bathroom and Dirk is flipping his shit over nothing. Maybe Dirk is supposed to flip his shit, and John is lying in silent wait to swoop in when he reaches a breaking point - he did say that he didn’t want to really hurt Dirk -, but…

Dirk swallows hard. Even though John never told him he couldn’t speak, he neither trusts his voice nor wants to risk disappointing John. He’s not quite at the point of wanting to safeword yet - after all, maybe this is all part of John’s plan, and Dirk promised himself that he would trust John a while ago - but there’s a terrified part of him that thinks there might not be a response even if he does. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dirk wiggles his fingers, stretching back up onto his tiptoes for a moment just to move. It’s probably fine. But if it’s not, _fuck_. How could he be so stupid? He should’ve known better than to let himself be like this in front of someone else, he _knows_ better than to let his guard down like this. It’s not a surprise that this is how it ended up, honestly. 

Distantly, like he’s hearing someone else’s breaths get shorter, choppier, until they’re just panicked, shallow inhales, Dirk realizes that he’s hyperventilating. Great. Now that he’s getting closer to maybe having to safeword, he might not be able to, and to top it all off, he abruptly notices that the blindfold and his cheeks are soaked. Great. Great, great, great. This is what he fucking gets for trusting someone so blindly, for being a fucking dick to John all day, for not being able to just accept that John ~~is~~ was there for him, for - 

“Dirk? Dirk, hey, hey, it’s okay, just breathe.”

The sound takes a moment to register, but when it does, Dirk freezes. The breath leaves his throat for a moment before it’s gently pushed back in. “John?”

“I’m here,” John says, because of course he does, because of course he is, because Dirk should’ve known. “Shh, you’re okay.” His hand is on Dirk’s forehead suddenly, brushing back his hair, and Dirk’s breath catches, hiccups embarrassingly. “You did so good, you’re doing so good for me, Dirk. Do you want me to take the blindfold off?”

Dirk nods, the movement almost frantic. The relief flooding his body is fucking overwhelming, and he sags into it. Shit. It’s okay.

There’s a soft _clink_ , like something being set down, and Dirk looks wildly around for a moment before both of John’s hands are cupping his cheeks. “It’s okay,” John says, “I was just putting down the water I brought you, okay? Here.” 

He pushes the blindfold up and off of Dirk’s head, and Dirk blinks in the warm, sunset glow of the room. John is standing directly in front of him, a slightly worried smile on his face, lower lip caught in his teeth, and at risk of cliche, he’s the most beautiful person Dirk’s ever seen. 

“Alright, let me get your hands, okay?” John presses a kiss to Dirk’s forehead, then reaches up and unties the knot deftly. He lets the rope fall to the floor in favor of catching Dirk’s hands, rubbing his thumbs gently over the indentations left by the rope. “Okay, hey, it’s okay.” 

Dirk takes half a second to roll his shoulders and wince before falling forward into John, tugging his hands out of John’s grip so that he can grab on him embarrassingly desperately. He’s a little too far gone to care at the moment, squeezing his eyes shut like that’ll stop the tears from slipping out and reminding himself over and over that John’s here, he’s here, he’s

“right here, Dirk, it’s okay,” John is murmuring. His arms have come to embrace Dirk, holding him tightly against the stupid fucking _Contact_ shirt he got from Target of all places, and he’s running a hand up and down Dirk’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. You did so good, dude, and it’s okay. I came back.”

And that, more than anything else, is what has Dirk feeling like he might shake apart from how hard he’s suddenly crying. That’s - fuck, he knew John was perfect, in an abstract, stupid way, but - he came back. And he knows John well enough to know that he doesn’t know how to say anything directly, that it has to be through a perfectly curated, horrible movie night or “letting” Dirk win in Monopoly or by breaking Dirk down to the point where words aren’t really enough, anymore, and he knows what John is saying. He came back, because Dirk knows that no matter how much therapy either of them have, John will never be the type of person that can promise that he’ll always be there. Dirk knows this because he’s the same way, he just handles it a little differently, but - John came back. And Dirk is abruptly, disgustingly sure that he always will. 

“Shit,” he gasps out, and John laughs a little. 

“Dirk Strider’s vast vocabulary at it again,” he says, and it’s - it’s absurd is what it is. Dirk is standing in the living room, completely fucking naked, clinging to John and crying like he’s not sure he ever has, but… John is right here with him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Dirk says, even though saying so sends a fresh wave of sobbing through his body. Cool, cool, right. “Just - yeah.”

“Alright, shh,” John says. He pulls back from Dirk just enough to place his hands on Dirk’s cheek, holding him still as he kisses Dirk’s forehead. “Here, what do you want? I need you tell me what you need right now, okay?”

Dirk’s not entirely sure what comes out of his mouth after that. Whatever it is leads to John underneath him, looking up at Dirk in a way Dirk doesn’t think he’d survive defining. The way Dirk grabs at him, with hands and mouth and instinct, is desperate in the strange way that you can be desperate for something you know you have. 

Somewhere along the line, thank fuck, Dirk is able to stop crying. Sobs fall to the embarrassing hiccups he hasn’t figured out how to avoid fall to choked moans. John’s hands are warm, now, somehow, and achingly present in the way they hold Dirk’s thighs as Dirk rides him, only upset that he’s not flexible enough to bend down and kiss John. 

His shoulders ache when he stretches his arms out and grabs onto the back of the headboard for balance. He leans into the feeling. John leans into him, slides his hands inward from Dirk’s thighs. Dirk comes before John actually touches him. 

There’s movement, then. John eases him onto his back, and now the strain in his shoulders is from wrapping his arms all the way around John, holding him close, close, closer. The idea that John could ever not be here seems absurd, impossible. His chest is warm and solid when it presses against Dirk’s, his smile soft and even warmer. 

Dirk’s not sure when he falls asleep, but when he wakes up, there’s sunlight streaming in through the curtains of their room and John is sitting up next to him, one hand holding his phone and the other idly playing with Dirk’s hair. “Hey,” he says, easy. “You know you don’t have to, like, fake piss me off to ask for things, right?”

Dirk reaches up and catches John’s hand in his own. If it were anyone else, he’d be embarrassed about it, but at this point, embarrassment between them is something like a moot point. “I know,” he says, and John squeezes his hand, and, well, that’s that.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: John consensually (Dirk agrees without knowing all of the specifics of the plan) ties Dirk up, blindfolds him, and leaves the room without Dirk knowing. Dirk panics a bit when he realizes John is gone and has a brief moment where he's afraid that safe wording would not end the scene, but John returns before Dirk feels the need to safe word. 
> 
> thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated <3


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